Wicked Games
by NeferNeferNefer
Summary: Lagertha and Rollo find some comfort in each other. Can be read as a continuation to 'The Will of Gods' or as a stand-alone piece.


**Wicked Games**

_"What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way  
What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you."_

\- _Wicked Games_ by Cris Isaacs

* * *

With a grunt, Rollo shifted his position, desperately trying to find some comfort. But as his efforts had no desired effects, he finally got up with a sigh.

The few animal skins placed upon the hard dirt-floor offered only a little comfort for him: his aging frame had gotten too used to sleeping in his own, comfortable bed which he shared with his faithful Christian wife. He vaguely remembered a time when he would have considered a roof upon his head and those modest lamb-skins as an unparalleled luxury.

He was only wearing a tunic and his breeches, so he wrapped his cape on his shoulders, moving closer to the warm embers of fire, rubbing his hands together in order to regain some warmth.

He had come to the old hiding place in the wilds in order to talk Lagertha and Bjorn into taking refuge in Francia. But all his pleas had fell to deaf ears, neither of the two had been willing to even consider his offer. He could hardly blame them: after all, in their eyes, he had just betrayed them by joining forces with Ivar.

And the next day, he would have to return to Ivar, telling their exact location. He had originally planned to leave during the same day, but Lagertha had offered that he could stay the night and leave the next day: Lagertha was most likely buying more time for them to get ready to leave, but Rollo had nevertheless accepted her offer.

But at the same time, he knew that by the time Ivar would reach their hiding place, Lagertha, Bjorn and their small party would be already far away from it: the thought made Rollo smirk. Ivar could hardly best them at such a game.

"Trouble sleeping, your Highness?" he heard Lagertha's mocking voice right beside him.

"It appears I'm too old and too spoiled for my own good," Rollo replied, moving aside and making some room for Lagertha, who gracefully as a feline sat herself next to him. Rollo could only admire how little time had left its affect on her: the same could not be said about himself.

"Hphm. It certainly does appear so," Lagertha agreed, looking slyly at him.

"Why did you really come here, Rollo?" Lagertha then asked of him, much like the woman Rollo had known and once perhaps loved: habitual to her temper, she was once again getting straight to the point.

He himself wasn't even sure what he had wanted to gain in the first place by coming here.

"To be honest, I'm not even sure. I just… Needed to see you. Both of you. And make sure that you're okay," Rollo finally admitted after a long moment of silence.

"Define 'okay', we still have Ivar and all his men after us. And that does include you as well, does it not?" Lagertha pointedly noted.

"Your point is duly noted," Rollo agreed.

Rollo did appreciate that Lagertha at least had tried to be civil with him. Bjorn, on the other hand, had refused to accept the fact that Rollo could be his father as well as Ragnar. Furious Bjorn had even threatened to kill him and his efforts were only stopped by inteference by Lagertha and Ubbe. Angry Bjorn had stormed off into the wilderness, obviously wanting to vent out his anger and spent some time away from all of them, but most of all away from Rollo.

Rollo would have been in terms with accepting his fate, but it appeared the Gods still had other plans on his part. Or as a Christian, he should probably just say 'God': somehow remembering his beliefs and Christian faith seemed even harder as he was being surrounded by the people and the places of his long-lost past.

"Why did you stop Bjorn?" Rollo than asked, trying to find something else to think about besides his religious dilemma.

"Why wouldn't I?" Lagertha frowned. "Bjorn might be mad at you, but he doesn't want you dead. He would regret such haste actions. He's disappointed, because he still cares about you."

"That's a little hard to believe," Rollo shook his head.

"I'm his mother; trust me, I know," Lagertha challenged him and Rollo came to the conclusion that he wasn't willing to butt his head with the most head-strong woman he had ever known.

"Fine, I'll take your word for it," he grudgingly agreed.

"Besides, I wouldn't want to see you dead either," Lagertha quietly confessed.

"Why? After all that I've done?" Rollo was more than a little surprised by this revelation.

"How could I? After all that we have been through?" Lagertha honestly recounted.

Momentarily Rollo thought about his youth and the fleeting feeling of Lagertha in his arms. As a young man, he had fallen head over heels for Lagertha, the most beautiful and fierce of all the girls_, of all the women,_ in Kattegat. For a time being, it had seemed that Lagertha might answer his affections as well.

Then along came Ragnar. There was fierce and bitter rivalry between the two brothers: which ever matter could turn into a fight between the two of them.

First Ragnar had started to woo Lagertha only to annoy Rollo: but as some time went by, it was obvious that Ragnar as well had developed feelings for her. And which was worse, Lagertha answered to his feelings.

Angered Rollo had challenged his own brother to fight over Lagertha. For a short time, it had seemed that Rollo might just win. But unfortunately for him, the Gods had other plans.

On a critical moment, Rollo had lost his footing and tumbled over, which Ragnar took opportunity of and won the fight. After their duel, Ragnar had started to brag how he had to fight an angry bear in order to win Lagertha's hand: Rollo never really found that pun very funny.

Rollo hardly remembered the wedding of his brother and Lagertha, he only remembered that he had gotten drunker than ever before or after that: he had lain with a servant girl in a hay barn and scrambled away in shame immediately after the act was consummated. He remembered how he had hurried outside, his legs giving up on him as he knelt to the ground, pounding his fist to the ground until it bled, fighting the bitter tears with pain. But it wouldn't work. Nothing would work.

It was some weeks later when he found out that Lagertha had already been with a child when she married Ragnar. Seven months later, Bjorn was born. Ever since Rollo had thought about it: could it be, that Bjorn was actually his son? He had studied the features and manners of the boy, now grown into a man, more times that he could actually count.

In his heart, he had already made up his mind.

But yes, he had loved Lagertha. He was rather sure that at some level, he could never stop loving Lagertha.

"You still with me?" Lagertha's concerned voice brought Rollo back into the current moment: long gone were the days of his youth, the aching on his weary members were a painful reminder of that.

"Hmm, only lost in the past momentarily. Another sign of old age, I suppose: that remembering the old times brings you more joy than the current moment," Rollo replied, giving her a small melancholic smile.

"We are still lucky to have this moment," Lagertha pointed out, her voice weary and sad. Yes, there many who could not say the same: Rollo's deceased brother Ragnar to name the most obvious loss.

"That's right. I'm sorry," Rollo replied, placing his hand on Lagertha's on a comforting manner and Lagertha squeezed his hand back. The quiet moment stretched between the two of them as they gazed at each other, both lost in the space between the past and the current moment, which was starting to merge together and creating something new. And something between the two of them shifted.

Subconsciously, they inched even closer to each other and Lagertha placed her tentative lips on his: he sighed with longing, pulling her body closer to his. He couldn't even think, the longing for her had been imprinted so deeply into his being that he could only act according to his instincts. When she pulled away, he felt like a starved man, which had been given only a mouthful of nourishment after eternity of starvation: he only wanted more.

"Lagertha…" he quietly breathed out, but she placed a finger on his lips before he could carry on.

"If we over-think it, we'll realize how bad idea this is. We still have this fleeting moment. So just… Let's go with it, will we?" Lagertha offered.

Rollo didn't reply, he only pulled her closer for another kiss. She pressed herself against him, striding his body. With almost trembling fingers, he started to remove her clothes, admiring each sliver of her body which was being exposed to his gaze. Even if she was significantly older than he remembered, she was sight to seen.

Lagertha started to work on his own clothing and he too was painfully aware the changes that had taken place in his own body: the well-defined muscles had given way to old age and soft flesh. But Lagertha seemed not to mind: she trailed soft kisses down his torso, continuing her way downwards and Rollo's breath hitched as her tongue lingered on his hard member.

"Lagertha…" He sighed her name, his voice chanting her name like a prayer. She looked back at his face, smirking as she saw his expression. Deciding he was ready, she moved and sheathed his hard member with her welcoming, wet entrance, letting out an approving sigh. Rollo shut his eyes with a groan.

Lagertha still was on top of him, striding him faster and faster by each passing moment.

Now this he remembered: not even all those nights he had spent Gisla could remove the memory of the passion he had once experienced with Lagertha. Sometimes he had thought if time had perhaps embellished his memories, but now he was certain it was not so.

Both their movements were starting to turn more and more erratic. Rollo gripped her hips harder as he felt his own peak reaching. Lagertha was breathing shallowly, her eyes shut as she moving even faster than before. They both surrendered to the sweetest abyss possible only few moments later.

Lagertha fell to his side, her breathing harsh much like his.

Rollo put a tentative arm around her and she moved closer to him, placing her head against his shoulder, slowly breathing out.

Rollo too sighed, enjoying the moment with some certain melancholy.

Just having this moment was enough for him, even if he knew with certainty that he would never be able to hold her in his arms.

But even knowing that, Rollo was certain that even though he would have to leave the next day and return to his everyday life back in Francia and he would most likely never see Lagertha's face again, he could now die as a happy man.

He could ask for nothing more than experiencing this moment one last time with the woman he had loved his entire life.

* * *

-A/N: 'The Will of Gods' was supposed to be a stand-alone piece. But then I sat down and pretty much wrote this thing in a one sitting.

So, this is pretty much alternate reality-kinda thing: Rollo didn't stay the night at Lagertha's and Bjorn's refuge. And secondly, I know that Lagertha was with bishop Heahmund at the time, but he's not here in my fic, is he? Oops.

Also, took some artistic license when imagine the past history concerning Lagertha's, Rollo's and Ragnar's past relationship: I liked the flow the story the way it was written, so I decided to keep it this way.


End file.
